


neon lights cast the darkest shadows

by kyeoesc



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anxiety, Blood, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cat/Human Hybrids, Character Death, Cigarettes, Deities, Escort Service, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ghosts, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description of Ghosts, Hallucinogens, Horror, Illegal Driving, Jongho is a deity, Knives, M/M, Platonic Yungi, Public Sex, SPOOKteez, Smoking, Smut, Spooktober, Supernatural Elements, Vomiting, Weapons, although it's just a small part of the story lol, ateezXspooktober, it is mostly het, platonic woosang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26948245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyeoesc/pseuds/kyeoesc
Summary: "Look at Mr Fancy Pants, hanging out at bright pretty places like these.” Wooyoung made his order at the bartender, a bulky red headed man in a white shirt and black vest.“Even the brightest places have shadows,” Yeosang smiled.-Jung Wooyoung is on tour with his bandmates, and they reach a town where his old friend Yeosang lived. As they explore the town, the night stretches longer as screams ring through alleyways, darks shadows engulfing men whole.
Relationships: Choi San/Original Female Character(s), Jeong Yunho/Original Female Character(s), Jung Wooyoung/Original Female Character(s), Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	neon lights cast the darkest shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to my many firsts; first horror au, first publicly published nsfw work. I don't have much to say other than put on some sexy eerie music and immerse yourself in this Ghoulish Spooktober!
> 
> [[ trigger / content warnings ]]
> 
> • Wooyoung has a death in his immediate family.  
> • Yunho gets anxiety attacks towards the end (club scene, after the smut)  
> • Minor mention of Yeosang also having anxiety/an insecurity.

[ **🎵 KILL US ALL - THE NBHD** ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2DBxhQbwnuXDioUVdL33S2?si=bOVUVdDOSrSCVLtniWpAvQ)

-

The room was warm, just a weak fan blowing winds towards the two bodies entangled on the cubicle size bed, squeezed between a thin mattress and the low ceiling that held another mattress on top of it. A short curtain was half uncovered, letting the soft winds come through, Wooyoung’s black baby hair fluttering in the air, the rest wet and sticking to his forehead and nape. He did his best to pull out more moans from the girl lying beneath him, hands busy working both his own and her pleasure, his tongue unresting as he leaves red marks on the girl's neck. His mind wandered in the soft sounds between them, from the cheering crowds from the night’s show, to the bright neon lights of the city that he had only seen through the bus windows last night when they had arrived. Between sound rehearsals and outfit checks, he managed to text his old friend Yeosang, who was in town. His head snapped back, a click in his brain reminding him of the promised meetup.

“Sorry babe,” he whispered as he sat up, buttoning up the girl’s blouse. “I’ve got somewhere to be right now.”

“Seriously?” she sighed back, rolling her eyes. She sat up, looking at Wooyoung quizzically. “You’ll call?”

“Yes, of course,” Wooyoung nodded, smiling cheekily.

“Okay,” she lingered for Wooyoung to say something else, observing the beauty mark under his left eye and his full lips, swollen from the exercise. Realizing he was just waiting for her to leave, watching her patiently, she rolled her eyes, looking away. “Idiot."

“What?”

The girl crawled out of the bedspace, looking for her underwear. Wooyoung bit his lower lip, drool pooling under his tongue, observing her peeping buttcheeks. Not much on the top but that ass was worth it. Once she retrieved it from one of the curtain hangers, she turned to Wooyoung. She snapped the panties on, making sure the rubber waist smacked on her hip bone.

“You don’t even have my number.”

The black haired bassist scurried behind the stomping girl as she walked out of the sleeping quarters, his jeans slipping down his knees, letting the bright red boxers flash his hard on in his bandmates’ eyes when he passed them in the living space of the tour bus. Groans sound through the bus at the sight.

“I really did mean to ask,” Wooyoung told the girl, pulling up his jeans and working on his belt. The girl stood at the entrance of the bus, then turned to look at Wooyoung. Then she observed the other boys looking at her from the surface that had become their dining table, just a counter between the rest of the space and the kitchenette. They sat on tall stools, some with a can of beer in hand, the vocalist and rhythm guitarist with sharp eyes and black hair streaked with a single thick white line munching down on a sandwich. He gulped when the girl made eye contact with him.

“You’re my favorite member from now on,” she winked at San. “I’ll be around.”

The girl opened the metal door and walked away, slamming the door shut. San dropped his sandwich and wiped bits of egg off his lip with his sleeve, looking around at his band members; Wooyoung, the defeated bassist, Yunho, the drummer who knew everything but said nothing, and their lead guitarist and best composer, Hongjoong. “I’ll be back.”

San stumbled at his feet as he left the bus, looking around for the girl. Wooyoung sighed, buckling his belt, turning towards his bandmates. He took over San’s seat near the counter, picking up the sandwich and taking an angry bite. He snatched the can of beer from Yunho’s hand, gulping down the drink in thirst. 

“Ew, post make out saliva,” the pink-blond winced. Wooyoung returned the can, placing it on the counter. “No thanks, you can have it.”

“You do realize that this is a tour bus where all of us are staying, together?” Seonghwa, a tall lean man behind the kitchenette counter wiped down beer condensation from the surface, looking at Wooyoung with a disapproving look. As the band’s manager, he was constantly taking in orders from labels and contractees and barking them back at the band members, the man who did almost everything the band needed to get done that didn't involve the creative process. “You were at least in your own bed, right?”

“I wouldn’t want to be in someone else’s musty bed anyway,” Wooyoung spat back. “Anyway, I’m going out tonight. Gonna go meet my friend, see the town.”

“Just be back before sunrise. We need to head out early or else we won’t make it for the next location’s sound rehearsals.” Seonghwa grumbled, already used to the band members’ antiques. The only one who doesn’t socialize around much was Hongjoong, who would rather be stuck in the bus writing songs anyway. Seonghwa watched him quietly as he strummed his guitar softly, humming to himself, taking sips of beer in between. The smaller looked up, his bright blue hair tied into a ponytail, T-shirt hanging loose from his shoulders. He smiled like a cheshire cat towards Seonghwa, sweet but sharp, and a wave of excitement crashed over the stress that has been building on his shoulders.

“Yea, that won’t be a problem, Yeosang’s not a troublemaker. At least, not anymore. Guess you’ll just have to hope for another miracle, huh Seonghwa?” Wooyoung jeered at the taller, revealing the metal bead pierced on his tongue. Seonghwa rolled his eyes, letting out a tired sigh. 

“Can’t we go out too, Hwa? I’m bored, and we should go do something,” Yunho whined, his feet kicking the counter in turns. Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered to Hongjoong who listened quietly, his eyes wide and observing the manager, whispering silent wishes through his pupils. He looked back at Yunho.

“You can go, if you want,” Seonghwa told, almost stuttering. Only Hongjoong can make him feel like his chest was about to collapse. “Hongjoong and I will stay behind. Be careful!”

Wooyoung and Yunho separated almost immediately after Wooyoung received the address of the restaurant he was supposed to meet Yeosang. Yunho found himself a bar to slip into, the red and green neon sign and drunkard college students lurking and bopping at the knees to deafening music inside calling to him. The town roads were lit mainly by shops, from convenience stores to small street food vendors to second floor massage parlours, giving more services than just massages. Wooyoung wondered why this town isn’t known for its nightlife, when it’s all there was to it. Even after their evening show, the crowd bustled out to continue drinking their night away, the streets never quiet from music playing from bars and clubs. He felt grateful that the night was dark, or maybe his band isn’t as well known as he’d thought, because no one had stopped him for a picture or an autograph, not like previous towns that they had played in. After losing one fan, who he literally had around his fingers, he felt like he needed to escape his rockstar life for a minute.

Inside the restaurant that they were supposed to meet, Yeosang stood by the bar, taking small sips from his glass. He wore a loose knitted sweater over torn skinny jeans, docs to fashion with it. His overgrown blond hair bounced back when he looked up to wave at his old friend, who curiously observed the restaurant sign. Wooyoung walked in as he saw Yeosang, feeling slightly underdressed in his loose black muscle tee and sneakers. He smiled, approaching Yeosang to give a tight hug. Yeosang wasn’t much of a hugger, but he patted Wooyoung’s back, for old time’s sake. 

“You made it,” Yeosang said, raising his deep voice against the music and loud chatter in the background. The restaurant was crowded, with standing tables and cushioned cubicles, scattered with groups of people, dressed to impress with expensive alcohol in hand.

“Barely,” Wooyoung grinned. “Was busy with pleasuring matters, if you know what I mean.”

“I thought you’d at least have someone to help now, you know, being a rockstar and all.”

“Hey, I did,” Wooyoung retorted. “Well, past tense. Anyway, look at Mr Fancy Pants, hanging out at bright pretty places like these.” Wooyoung made his order at the bartender, a bulky red headed man in a white shirt and black vest. 

“Even the brightest places have shadows,” Yeosang smiled. “How was your show?”

“Good. Great. The crowd here’s awesome, loud.” Wooyoung took a sip from the glass of iced whiskey that the bartender had set in front of him. “Too bad we can’t do another show here. This tour’s pretty packed. I’ll make sure we come back though. How have you been? Too busy to come see his old friend perform in front of hundreds?”

Yeosang chuckled. “Being a college professor isn’t the easiest thing to do, especially when you’re young and students think you’re one of them.”

“What, you have papers to mark, projects to fail?” 

“Something like that.”

The night went on, from small talk about family and work to class politics and socioeconomics. They had moved to a cubicle for two and shared a serving of chilli fries plated on a stainless steel basket on top of brown paper tissues, extra chilli in a separate vitrelle bowl, the fanciest fast food Wooyoung had ever had. It reached a point where Yeosang’s fingers trembled as he reached for his drink, causing a spill, the dark red wine dripping off the side of the table and staining Wooyoung’s jeans. They laughed about it, and the bassist excused himself to the restroom. While he was there, he used the urinary, letting the excess warmth in his body escape. The restroom was quiet, empty. The staff kept it relatively clean, with the exception of some rolled tissues scattered near the trash can. Wooyoung felt a chill before hearing the door creak open, a figure appearing beside him to take a piss as well. It weirded Wooyoung that he chose the urinary right next to his when there were ones further away, so Wooyoung finished up, looking up at the figure to identify the guy, just in case.

A shiver went down Wooyoung’s spine, seeing the familiar face of someone that had been dead to him for years now, looking down at him, eyes empty and skin rotting to a grey, lips chapped and pale. He felt his muscles tense as he blinked, and the figure was gone.

_Jinyoung…?_

Wooyoung shook the thought from his head; he might be more affected by the alcohol than he had thought. He returned to his table where Yeosang waited, tracing the rim of his wine glass. Yeosang watched the shaken boy with concern.

“Hey, you look a little pale. You okay?”

“Yea, fine,” Wooyoung sighed. “Hey maybe we should head out, get some fresh air.”

“Okay, sure,” Yeosang said, still concerned. “Where do you wanna go?”

Wooyoung thought about it. “Is your campus cool? I wanna see where people educate themselves, or get banged, either or.”

-

Seonghwa had poured himself a glass of cheap wine, watching the city lights from the window of the bus, pulling a stool to sit on. They had one other surface, a tall table that had barely any surface at all, but was a comfortable height for their stool chairs. They placed it near the entrance for anything they needed to put by the door, but Seonghwa was using it to rest his wine glass. He tried to distract himself from the strumming and humming boy on the other side of the bus, but it was for nought. He stole glances, admiring his slim body hanging over the acoustic guitar, only a standing light alive in the bus to help the musician see his notes and fingers. At one point, Hongjoong’s sight catches him, his eyes fluttering up at the taller. He jumped slightly in his seat, startled.

“Stop watching, that’s creepy.”

“It’s hard to not watch. You’re a performer, after all. You need an audience.”

“Something tells me you’re not watching my meaningless strumming.” A silence heightened the tension between them, the alcohol in Seonghwa’s system running amok at Hongjoong’s stare, sharp and unreadable. “If you like what you see, we can go somewhere else. Do something else.”

The careless whispers sent a shiver down Seonghwa’s spine, his imagination running wild. He doesn't know what it was - the alcohol in his veins, or the darkness of the bus, or the neon lights of the city - but it excited him, and he wanted to chase it, all the feelings that he had to keep to himself out of professionalism. Tonight, he wanted to be someone else, venture routes he had never before, with the man in front of him right now. With a bite of the lip, Seonghwa stood up and approached the other, looking down at his curious eyes. Hongjoong put his guitar down voluntarily, leaning it on the kitchenette counter. Seonghwa leaned down, pulling on Hongjoong's blue ponytail, and whispered “Why not right here, right now?” before landing a kiss on Hongjoong’s cheeks. Hongjoong turned to return the kiss with his own lips, and Seonghwa’s long arms pulled Hongjoong by the waist, guiding him away from the stool that he sat on. It didn’t take long for them to undress, clothes scattered on the floor of the bus, their bodies among the mess, entangled in cold sweat. At their peak, Seonghwa let himself fall, his head leaning onto Hongjoong’s for a rest. Hongjoong’s eyes closed, cooling himself down. In the darkness, he opened them again to see a shadow by the window where Seonghwa sat previously, looking down at them. At the sight, he pushed Seonghwa away, gasping as he sat up. Seonghwa held onto Hongjoong’s forearm, trying to calm him.

“Hey, you okay? What happened?”

“Th-there was something, outside,” Hongjoong stuttered. “It’s gone now.”

Seonghwa looked out, seeing nothing but the view he was watching before. He turned back to Hongjoong, and in a glimpse his eyes were dark holes, his cheshire smile melting on its sides. Seonghwa jumped up in shock, but Hongjoong’s face was back to his almost childish expression, round eyes and pointed nose. Seonghwa stood frozen, unsure of what he had just seen.

“I know you’re hot and long and big but damn, this is awkward,” Hongjoong retorted, looking at Seonghwa’s naked body from the floor. “Let’s clean up.”

“Y-you’re Hongjoong, right?” Seonghwa asked as the other stood up.

“Yea, what’s wrong?” Hongjoong replied, walking towards the kitchen sink and grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself. He turned to Seonghwa, feeling a little uncomfortable with the darkness after what he had just seen. Seonghwa approached Hongjoong, pinching his shoulder, then his cheeks. Hongjoong frowned, pushing the hand away. “Hey.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa sighed. “Must be my imagination.”

“Did the sex break us or something?” Hongjoong grinned. “We’re acting all kinds of weird.”

“No,” Seonghwa replied, leaning down to kiss Hongjoong’s warm shoulder. “It was perfect.”

-

Yunho watched the crowd, enjoying his drink as his eyes ate the scenery of tight dresses outlining ladies’ bodies, smashing into each other and others around them. The low lights spared him from being approached by wandering eyes, looking away every time someone came near, pretending he wasn’t there. A tall lean figure in a patterned shirt tucked into black jeans caught his attention, nose long and lips plump, approaching Yunho at a casual pace. Yunho looked away, hoping the man would detour, but he didn’t. A long finger tapped Yunho’s shoulder, making him look up, eyes tired and avoidant. 

“Hey, aren’t you from that band that performed in the theater a few blocks away?” the man smiled. Yunho felt himself heat up from embarrassment. 

“Yea,” Yunho replied, almost at a whisper. 

“Yea?” the man repeated. “You have to be. The pink hair is hard to miss. You guys play well. And you’re like, tall. Even in the back you stand out.”

Yunho smirked. “Thanks.”

“What are you doing here? Taking in the scenery?” The man raised his eyebrows. “Where are your bandmates?”

“They’re out doing their own thing. I don’t really know what to do in town so I just walked into the darkest, mustiest place possible.”

The man grinned. “I’m Mingi, by the way.” He offered a handshake, and Yunho took it.

“Yunho. Nice to meet you.”

Mingi sat himself on the stool next to Yunho, making a drink order. “So, dark and musty. A place you like being at?” 

“I do it to get rid of attention. What are you here for?”

“Well it’s where anyone from anywhere is at. Easily said, it’s cheap, so all the college kids go here.”

“You go to college?”

“Yup,” Mingi took a sip from the condensing glass offered by the bartender. “Used to. Third final year. Meaning I’ve purposely failed cal three just to stay in college for an extra two years.” Yunho smirked. “I’m not stupid, I’m not. There’s no reason a person can get exactly 20% at every paper if they’re actually bad at calculus. No, it’s because I’m an expert at the subject that I score _exactly_ 20% every. Single. Time. But this was my last semester. I couldn’t fail it again or else that’s a whole major change and I don’t need that. So enough about me. What’s your story?”

“You already know it.”

“Alright alright, mystery boy,” Mingi smirked. “So you’re planning to stay here for the rest of the night? Staring at lady bits and then going home when you’re tired?”

“Do you have anything better in mind?”

“Of course I do. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

-

No place was the wrong place. No place was too dark and dirty, no place too exposed. The strong muscles of the girl’s back were in San’s hands, his fingers tracing it down towards her hips, stopping at her soft ass to give it a squeeze, releasing a satisfying moan from her mouth and into San's, his growing erection chafing against his jeans. He turned the girl around, making her lean herself on the dumpster's wall, one of his hands cupping the girl’s breast as the other ran under her skirt, working around with impatient fingers as he helps himself inside of her. He held onto her smooth stomach, the other hand reaching up to balance himself against the dumpster, occasionally grasping onto the girl’s dark hair, making her whine from the pleasure of the pain. His eyes closed shut as the thrusts continued, soaking up the sounds between his movement and her almost pornographic reception and the squelches of their bodies meeting, ears flaming from his overwhelmed senses. Soon, his own excitement released, and he let go of the girl, who straightened her back and pulled the hem of her skirt, combing her straight hair with her fingers so it fell perfectly into place. She turned to face San, maintaining a composure that surprised the other; she didn’t look like she was just fucked twenty seconds ago. He wiped the droplets of sweat that had formed on his forehead and top lip with his sleeve, observing the girl's movements. With a soft smirk she approached him, her hand sliding down his softened dick. “Do you want me to blow you?”

“Sure,” the words slipped out of San’s mouth without thought, and just as quick the girl got on her knees, making him hiss at the touch. The pleasure built fast, coursing through San’s veins, blood making its way back down as his jaw hung, taking in the sensitivity of his dick and embracing it as every movement the girl made made him feel closer and closer to a second release. When he felt like he was about to burst, he felt the pain of teeth clenching onto the top of his dick, where it met the skin of his stomach.

“Uh, that kinda hurts, maybe no teeth?”

The girl didn’t reply, nor did she move. Her tongue stayed flat underneath San’s dick, holding his build from releasing. San looked down to the top of her head.

“Hey, you okay?”

The teeth now bit onto both the top and underside of San’s dick, and San’s thigh muscles clenched at the pain, his knees almost banging against the girl’s head but he stopped himself. He gritted his teeth as he felt the incisors slowly grow sharply into his skin, and with horror he watched as blood started to seep out from under her lips.

“What the hell?” he said loudly before pushing the girl’s head slightly backwards, making her look up, and instead of the almond eyes etched into a pale face, he locked eyes with a beady pupil inside a widened socket, eyeballs almost coming out of them, skin spotted and wrinkled. He let go of the girl’s head, allowing her teeth to tear through the muscles of his dick, clawing out a scream from San’s lungs.

“FUCK!” he screamed. “FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK?!” The girl pulled herself away quickly, severing the genital from San’s body, blood pouring from his crotch. San cursed in incoherent screams that rang through the empty and dimly lit alleyway, scarlet liquid dripping through his fingers as he cupped himself to stop the bleeding, eventually falling to his knees from the pain stinging throughout his body, his ears ringing loudly in and out of his brain. His sight started to blur as he looked up and watched the girl approach him, slurping his dick down her throat with an angry growl. She looked down at him with a scowl, blood splattered all across her pretty pale face. The sound coming out of her mouth was barely human, a gurgle tailing each coherent word.

_"What a pretty voice you have there, my handsome little singer."_

Her mouth opened wide, the sharp teeth edging her lips as they enlarged, engulfing San into darkness, and then, nothing.

-

“Did you hear that?” Seonghwa looked out the bus window. They had the lights switched on now, both slightly spooked by the monsters they saw in the dark. The outside looked darker than it had been previously, their own bright drunken laughter contributing to Seonghwa’s poor depth perception. They had been playing a few card games, each round punishing the loser with a strip of a piece of clothing. Hongjoong didn’t mind losing two out of the three rounds.

“Hear what?” Hongjoong replied in slurred giggles, his cheeks pink and his eyes in lazy crescents. He hugged his naked torso, feeling slightly chilly. He had let go of his ponytail, his fringe falling carelessly on his eyes, the hair on the back of his head helping if only slightly to keep him warm.

“I thought I heard someone scream,” Seonghwa commented in an almost whisper. “It sounded like San…”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Hongjoong cooed, tracing a finger on Seonghwa’s knuckles as it sat on his knees. Seonghwa turned his attention back to the musician. “Come on, don’t be a sore loser and show me what you got!”

Seonghwa smirked and put down his cards. Three queens and two fives. “Full house. I think you only have one piece of clothing left.”

“Boohoo,” Hongjoong pouted his lips, the lower one jutted out jeeringly. He laid his card down upwards; four sevens and a jack. “Looks like I get to keep them on. Four of a kind, baby!”

“Shit!”

“Take off your ugly pants!” Hongjoong hooted between snickers, taking another few gulps of beer. “We’re playing UNO next! And let’s switch it up a little, shall we?"

-

🎵 [COLD **COLD COLD - CAGE THE ELEPHANT**](https://open.spotify.com/track/1Q3t9fWvHUXKsMmpD2XpUu?si=jvvmJCibQ-qaR2O6gelSsQ)

-

It was illegal to smoke on campus, but it was a Saturday night, and Wooyoung could count with his calloused fingers the amount of students that were actually on campus for academic matters. Yeosang only stated it to make Wooyoung aware of the consequences of being caught, not that it mattered to either of them, since Yeosang was a well known professor around there; well known for his youth, well known for his knowledge despite it, and well known for his Michelangelo sculpted face. No one would have guessed that he hung out with the likes of Wooyoung in high school, throwing pebbles at jocks from treetops and smoking weed by the last stall of the third floor boy’s room. Yeosang had missed his rebellious years, but told himself it was worth bucking up for college and leaving the town behind, now earning a good pay at a relatively young age, and an apartment with his name on it. So behind the facade of a handsome scholar, he wasn’t sure how to act around Wooyoung, both of them now sitting on the stairway up to his department building. He was grateful that Wooyoung wasn’t the type to care about those things. They smirked at each other as they took their first drag of their cigarettes.

“Remember the first time Jinyoung gave us a cigarette?” Yeosang drawled, alcohol still in his veins.

“Yea, he said he didn’t want us wasting his weed so he told us to practice first,” Wooyoung chuckled at the memory. “Man, it’s been nine years since.”

“Since the first cig? Feels a lot longer.”

“Since he died.”

Yeosang fell quiet. He wasn’t good at consolation. “Wow. Time flies.”

“Yea. We just got out of high school, huh?”

“Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“S’okay. You were moving. Wouldn’t want to stop you from moving out of that ghost town anyway.” Wooyoung took a long drag and let the smoke dry his mouth bitterly before releasing it. His memory flashed to the familiar face in the bathroom, lifeless and grim, and smirked. “I know we’re drunk and shit, and you won’t believe me, but I think I saw my dead brother just now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think his ghost said hi to me or something, while I was taking a piss.”

“Why would he say hi while you were peeing? Seems inconvenient.”

Wooyoung paused. Not only inconvenient, but now that he said it out loud, it might not have even been his brother. He could only hum in reply.

“I’ve never actually explored my building at night,” Yeosang told, turning towards the structure behind them. The relatively young campus was mostly modern concrete buildings, made square and sharp on its edges, glass doors and big glass windows. They didn’t need to enter to see half of what was going on inside, but it didn’t mean the other half didn’t have any corners to explore. “Who knows, maybe we can find your brother.”

Wooyoung knew it was meaningless chatter, but with their tobacco mixed with tar scented clothes, they stood up and made their way inside.

-

“So it’s another dark and musty bar?” Yunho observed, looking around at the new establishment that Mingi had brought him to. It was a few blocks away, but the blocks of the town were small, and it took no time to get to. Yunho wondered why bother having another bar sitting so close to the other.

“It’s a dark and musty club, and do you know what they have at clubs?” Mingi was guiding Yunho through the crowd, bodies entranced by the music and gave no mind to the two men, too busy chasing their own high. Yunho kept quiet, somewhat able to answer this himself, but followed Mingi anyway. At least he wasn’t gaining any attention, and he wasn’t repulsed by the idea of getting into trouble. When was the last time rockstars cared about getting into trouble anyway? Yunho was second to Hongjoong about caring about what Seonghwa says, but tonight he felt a little bit more adventurous than usual. Maybe it was the alcohol that had been marinating in his veins. Maybe it was the town’s bright neon lights that had hypnotized him so.

They finally reached a curtained area, the amount of closed booths limited, and Mingi pushed one of the booth’s covers aside. He smirked when he saw a man being palmed by a barely clothed woman, drink in his hand, a lit cigarette hanging out her mouth. Yunho stayed two steps behind Mingi, not wanting to receive any attention from the man.

“Mingi! My man! Here for the goods?”

“No small talk?” Mingi invited himself to a seat next to the mysterious man, only about a couple of years older than Mingi and Yunho, skin already sagging and teeth behind the wide smiles already yellow and rotting, but the deep dimples helped maintain a sort of youth. “Yunho, c’mere, he won’t bite.” 

Yunho took a few steps closer but hesitated to take a seat until Mingi patted a spot on the fake leather cushion of the sofa.

“You like women? I have a few more that can be at your service.” The man proceeded to make a gesture at the woman next to him, taking the cigarette away from her mouth before she walked away. “So you’re here for small talk.”

“Thought I’d just amuse you for a second,” Mingi grinned playfully.

“That’s what I thought,” the man said, clearly used to Mingi’s antiques. He pulled a transparent plastic bag from his back pocket and placed it on the table in front of them. The booth was in a circular shape, the table and sofa shaped to fit it perfectly, and Yunho realized the drugs were thrown at them both, not just Mingi. Yunho observed the pink thin papers placed inside the packet, and Mingi took it away after a moment was given. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“You’re always asking that but you never pay me the right amount anyway.”

“Tonight I’m on a splurge. Well, this guy is.” Mingi pointed a thumb at Yunho. Yunho hesitated, eyes going from Mingi to the man. The man caught his sight and locked it, his expression had lost the playfulness he was showcasing before.

“A benjamin will do.”

Yunho waited for Mingi to say something, but instead he just turned towards Yunho anticipatingly, an impatient grin lingering. Yunho pulled the wallet from behind his back pocket and pulled out the hundred dollar bill, placing it on the table.

“Good man,” the man smirked, clawing the bill as if it might fly away. “Come back again soon. Well, maybe you can stay for a few more minutes.”

The woman from before had returned, two other women behind her, their satin dresses falling on their bodies just for the occasion, leaving nothing to the imagination, their sparkling heels barely competing for the spotlight. One of the girls screamed a high note as she saw Mingi, screaming turned to loud giggles as she jumped across the table and onto his lap. 

“Mingi! I haven’t seen you in years!” She landed alcohol stained pecks on Mingi’s right cheeks, one arm holding his head from behind, the other hand on his left shoulder and hanging from it. He only smiled back, landing a hand comfortably on her waist.

“I told you I had a final so I won’t be seeing you in a few weeks,” he retorted back. They drowned into chatter, now no longer of Yunho’s interest as the other woman had made her way next to Yunho, leaning dangerously close to his body, letting his arm feel her front silhouette. He looked down as she touched his thigh, then happy that she had his attention, she slung one leg over his legs. He sat up straight, looking up to face the woman with an awkward smile. He’s had a couple of escorts before, it wasn’t his first, but in a strange town with the company of two strangers instead of his bandmates? He would usually distract himself from the ladies by creating a loud scene and hooting along with his friends, but today he was lost in his own curiosities.

“You’re a big guy, aren’t you?” the woman grinned seductively, caressing her hand up and down his thigh. “New in this town? I haven’t seen you around.”

“Just here for the night,” Yunho grinned, not sure where to put his hands, leaving them in fists on his sides. She quickly caught on, picking up the cigarette box from the table. She offered him a cigarette and lit it for him, then placed the box and lighter back on the table. 

“Funny. People that I've met who come for the night usually never come back. Either that or they never leave,” she said, the conundrum in her tone intentional. Yunho smirked in amusement. He took his first drag before she stole the cig back from him, taking a breath for herself. Keeping the smoke in her mouth, she landed her closed lips on Yunho’s, then opened it to french him, transferring the smoke into him. Yunho closed his eyes, letting himself drown in the hungry kiss, feeling the leather pants tighten by his crotch. He opened his eyes slightly, curious to see the beautiful woman. His eyes widened as it met with bloodshot eyes watching him, the small pupils shivering in place, the skin around its sockets blistered and sagging. He jumped back, knocking the girl on Mingi’s lap in the torso with his elbow.

“Hey!” she whined in her annoyingly high pitched voice.

“What the hell man?” Mingi complained.

“S-sorry,” Yunho stuttered, then turned back to the girl next to him, who seemed as pretty and seductive as she was, a confused expression etched in her face. “Sorry.”

“You’re not into it?” the girl asked, a hint of sadness in her voice. 

“Aaah, I was, but I think I’m a bit tired.”

“That’s what this is for,” Mingi grinned, pulling out the transparent packet. The man who had provided it was now lost in his own world, the others around them pretending they’re not witnessing the horrific mismatch between the two. Mingi poured the thin slips in a carefully cupped palm, then threw the plastic away. He took one with his fingertip and placed it on his tongue. The two girls followed, then Mingi pushed the palm in Yunho’s way. He had seen them before, had it once, a long time ago, before he was in his own band, instead jumping along to another’s music. Why not? He took it and placed it in his tongue as if it might explode if it stayed on his hands for too long. There was one more and Mingi offered it to the female of the Siamese twins, and she took it without moving much away from the man. “Alright, now who’s ready to party?”

-

The corridors were just as grey as the exterior of the building, gloom and haunting as lights lit with each step they took. Wooyoung looked around curiously at the cork boards on the walls filled with brochures and flyers, varying from course ads to long letters of notice. Yeosang was leading him through the labs downstairs that held heavier equipment, and some modern technology that they had only recently acquired. Yeosang was babbling on, Wooyoung letting him in mild disinterest. They reached the end of the first floor hallway, arriving in front of an elevator; there were two in this building, one on each side of the corridor. Yeosang tapped on the second floor button and the elevator closed in front of them.

“What’s your specialty again?” Wooyoung asked.

“Geology, I’m currently researching some minerals found near the foot of Mount-”

“Oh okay,” Wooyoung cut off, smirking playfully. Yeosang landed a soft punch on Wooyoung’s arm. “Point is, you’re boring me. Anything interesting ever goes on around here?”

“The most interesting things happen on the town streets, not on campus.” Yeosang thought about it as they left the elevator. The lights above them didn’t light up, but the walls of the hallway were mostly glass now, looking down at the stairway they were sitting on before, letting the street lights cast vertical shadows on the white wall on the other side. “Mental note: gotta report the broken lights on Monday.”

They kept walking down the corridor, looking around for an interesting topic to bring up. As Wooyoung’s eyes explored the labs from the outside, looking through their big windows, he caught sight of a shadow standing in the dark. His eyes widened, but he kept walking, staying in pace with Yeosang. Feeling chills down his back, he looked away, to the outside. At the spot they were sitting at, a figure stood tall, a cigarette lit at its mouth. It took a few more seconds for Wooyoung to recognize his brother’s decaying face. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the figure, then realized that the figure was watching him too, following them as they walked across the hallway.

“Yeosang,” Wooyoung’s voice shook as he placed a hand on Yeosang’s shoulder. “We need to get out of here.”

Yeosang turned towards Wooyoung, his skin rotting on one side, his eyeball popping out of one socket and hanging as it hit his bare teeth. Wooyoung took a step back and the lights above them lit up, casting a bright light on Yeosang’s handsome face.

“Oh, the light here works,” Yeosang commented, then looked at Wooyoung’s pale face. “You okay? I thought I was the drunk one but you’re being really weird.”

“I don’t think I’m just seeing things,” Wooyoung’s voice continued to shake. He looked out at the stairway again and the figure was gone. He glanced back up at Yeosang’s confused face. “We need to leave.”

Wooyoung pulled Yeosang towards the end of the hallway but the lights flickered and in the darkness the figure appeared again, grey and waiting near the elevator on the other side, smoke floating by its face. Yeosang shouted a curse, and Wooyoung pulled him towards the other end, back to the elevator they came from. They ran without looking back, and the elevator door opened itself, a feline waiting on the inside. Without question they jumped in and tapped the close button repeatedly, watching the door close in as the figure appeared just outside the elevator door, its face calm and unsaturated, eyes a pair of whites. Their heartbeats raced, panting as they looked at each other, then down at the cat between them, who looked back at them with golden eyes. The cat was oddly a shade of velvet red, its coat shining in the LED lights of the elevator. The door opened back to the grey hallway, and the cat walked out, pausing to turn and meow at the two. They looked at each other then back at the cat, who was already walking down the hallway, letting the lights above it turn on one by one. They followed it curiously, still chilled from the experience, but quiet, looking around in fear of seeing what they didn’t want to see. It wasn’t until they were outside the building that they stopped walking, looking around to what seemed like a normal night, just as things were before. The cat sat on one end of the stairway, a stone handrail casting a shadow on its body, and slowly it grew, it’s legs extending into the arms and legs of a normal human being, its tail shrinking towards the end of its spine, its ears moving towards the side of its head. The human was wearing a white shirt and a black vest, sitting on the top of the stairway. He pulled a cigarette box from his vest pocket and lit himself a cig. Only then did he turn towards the frozen friends, his golden eyes gleaming in the dark. It was the only thing that would’ve hinted that this being was the cat from ten seconds ago, other than the velvet red hair.

“You two look lively.”

“What are you?” Yeosang managed to choke. 

“I’m a deity. No use keeping that information a secret.”

“A- deity?” Wooyoung whispered.

“Do you wanna google that up? I’m not really one to explain myself.”

“D-did you help us? With that… thing?”

“You catch on fast. Well, you _are_ the young professor. Did you know that most prodigies end up dying lonely, their legacy a dark past, their life ending in depression and anxiety that they will never continue garnering attention by exceeding other’s expectations?”

Well, it was one of Yeosang’s life worries, one that didn’t seem too important right now.

“Will it keep coming back for us?” Wooyoung asked after a quiet moment.

“I’ll try my best to help, but I’m only one being, and one of you had already slipped out of my grasps.”

“What does that mean?” Yeosang asked. The red haired deity looked at Wooyoung with apologetic eyes.

“One of your friends is gone. And if we don’t work quick or smart enough, we might lose another two soon.”

-

The red and green and yellow and blue cards had been abandoned, Seonghwa’s moans encouraging Hongjoong even more as he bobbed his head on the other’s crotch, trying his best for his first, letting the taller pull at his blue hair as his fingers gripped his scalp. It seemed like he was doing fine, his inch growing itself to Seonghwa’s beautiful voice, drowning his own thoughts and insecurities. It was even more intriguing, how he can feel the blood inside of him course through his body even under the bright fluorescent lights, as if there was no shame between them, no secrets to hide, just everything that they had kept to themselves, all the moments that they have imagined but now are living, doing, feeling. Hongjoong had left that last stop card in his final three cards, had pretended that he didn’t have that green or that two in hand, had taken more from the deck as Seonghwa naively grinned towards his win; the prize being a little gift from Hongjoong. He had wanted to give Seonghwa this; it was all part of the plan. 

What wasn’t part of the plan was any of the band members coming home any time soon.

The knock surprised them both, Hongjoong pulling himself away and Seonghwa sat up straight. It was both loud and calm, as if the person behind the door had nowhere to go. Hongjoong scrambled on his knees, grabbing whatever was around him and putting it on.

“Who is it?” Seonghwa shouted, frozen in his position on the floor.

“It’s San!” the voice replied, neutral with only a bit of irritation in his tone. “Come on, open up.”

“Just a second!” Seonghwa finally softened his limbs enough to put his boxers back on, then his pants. He wondered for a second if he should put on his shirt.

The metal door sounded of loud knuckle rasps. “What’s taking so long? You two banging each other in there?”

It sent shivers down both their spines. There is no way that he would’ve known. Seonghwa slipped his shirt on and quickly buttoned it. Hongjoong sat on the stool where Seonghwa had been sitting before, picking up the glass, the wine inside now lukewarm. Seonghwa gave Hongjoong a glance and nodded ‘ready’ before opening the bus door, the metal hinges making a squeaky whine. San grinned as he looked at Seonghwa up and down, catching the mismatched buttons and the tented pants.

“I was just kidding but by the way you look, I might not be wrong.”

“You’re back early. Didn’t get too far with the girl?”

Hongjoong was listening from his position, curiously looking out the window to see his bandmate. Chills fell through his body, raising every hair on his skin. He was looking at nothing - just an endless darkness of the parking lot.

“Oh I got far enough,” San retorted.

“Seonghwa, I think you should close the door,” Hongjoong stood up, placing the wine glass carefully on the table in front of him as his feet rushed towards the taller.

“Huh?” Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong’s pale face then back at San. San’s eyes rolled back, blood pooling at his sockets then dripping down the sides of his face, his smirk lingering sinisterly. Hongjoong grabbed the metal door from Seonghwa’s steeled hands and banged the door shut, locking it for assurance. They looked at each other, breaths short and deep. Hongjoong broke the eerie silence between them.

“I think something is definitely wrong with this place.”

-

The three figures paced through the town and its neon lights, the only thing keeping the darkness away, glistening on young faces and their beaming faces, unaware of the ghosts that hide behind the dark shadows that follow them around. Yeosang suddenly felt like he hadn’t seen the town this alive at night, or maybe he hadn’t been out as often as he had thought, and wondered what other horrors had awaited them. Wooyoung was right behind the deity, feeling his lungs struggle as the being practically floated through the streets. 

“Who? Why?” They were the only words Wooyoung could gasp out.

“Simple. The town’s ghosts don’t like visitors. Not ones that take advantage of the town’s life; the sex, the drugs, the alcohol, the music. It belongs to those who stay here; the ghost’s life sources, their company, whom they like very much, and would prefer if you didn’t disturb them and their lives. If you do not plan to stay for long, not contributing to the town’s endless night life, but steal their source of energy, then you are to be punished.”

“My friends… who’s gone?”

“I do not know his name. But I sensed an abnormal death, something otherworldly - one that only happens on these occasions. I have a death count of eight in this century. Why must there be so many of you? It was tiring chasing you alone. One of you seems safe for now… he has human company, more than one, which should keep the ghosts away for the time being.” 

“Wait, are you saying that this is happening to Wooyoung but not me?” Yeosang had caught up now, jogging next to the deity when he realized he was straggling, creeped out by how the people around them were living as if the unalive didn’t walk with them. He noticed the metal sheath bouncing on the side of the deity's thighs, clipped to the waistband of his dress pants. It reflected the lights from the street vendors, but not enough to steal attention from the radiating night life.

“If it must happen to him, then you as his company will see things you do not want to see as well,” he answered simply.

They kept quiet, feeling a tension heighten from their sense of guilt. Would Wooyoung tell Yeosang to go home and take a good rest, or does Yeosang have to excuse himself first?

“It’s useless now. Your friend is already involved. There’s no stopping it until it ends. I suggest you stay with us for the night.”

The two friends felt an odd relief from the deity’s words.

“You have a name?” Wooyoung asked.

“I don’t. But if you must acknowledge me by one, other than Lord Deity, you can call me Jongho. It was the name of the bartender I stole these clothes from. Only half as handsome as I am.”

“A deity with a sense of humor,” Wooyoung snorted. “This night can’t get any longer.”

They reach a dark alleyway on their way to the tour bus. Jongho stopped at the sight of blood on the dirty tar floor. “This is where the first death happened.” He glanced over at the dumpster. “The fool put his semen in one of those things. Seems like an idiotic thing to do but aren’t all humans just creatures of pleasure and lust?”

“Wait, so do you know who it was?” Wooyoung asked.

_“It was me.”_

The three looked up to see a lean figure approaching them slowly, his eyes sharp, white streak catching the street lights.

“San?”

As the figure came closer to the light above them, it’s body deformed itself, flashing them an image of San's naked legs and bleeding crotch before returning back to normal, then its head twitched and twisted, its face changing to the familiar calm grey that had been haunting them, staring at them with his white eyes. Its legs reached where the light casted on the floor, still in San’s black jeans and coke dusted sneakers, and it stopped, the glum face staying in the shadows.

“I’m telling you to stay away from these two,” Jongho said sternly. “I thought it was clear from before.”

 _“He is my brother.”_ The figure’s mouth didn’t move, but the voice drawled and echoed through the alleyway. Wooyoung didn’t find any familiarity in the voice, hairs standing at the back of his neck. _“Our bond is stronger than your will, poor deity.”_

Jongho stepped closer and the figure stayed in its place. With a quick move Jongho pulled a knife from his metal sheath and sprinted towards the shadows, his arms pulling back and targeting the ghost. Before he could reach it, the figure pulled back quickly, flying backwards towards the unseen darkness. 

“That one wants you to stay,” Jongho told grimly, wielding his knife on his side, eyes locked onto the darkness. The sharp tanto point in his hand was only half a foot long, the handle a gleaming titanium, two Chinese letters engraved on one corner; 'To Protect'. “But he won’t fool me. Your brother is at peace, rest easy. That is not him, and no matter what he says, _do not_ fall for his whispers.”

“He hadn’t exactly been friendly so I don’t think you have to be worried about that.”

“These things are tricky. Don’t be too comfortable.”

-

🎵 [**THE HUNTED - SNOW GHOSTS**](https://open.spotify.com/track/1y2RuVcXjy99icA6APOUjr?si=A4HLYZ9SSRSuC15JWQW_6w)

-

“Come on guys, you can’t keep me locked out here!”

The banging hadn’t stopped since they closed the door on what appeared to be San. The shouts seemed almost teasing, a drip of gleeful sarcasm in its tone. Hongjoong sat behind the counter, gulping wine by the bottle’s mouth. Seonghwa had been pacing, biting his nails, unsure of what to make of what he had just seen. He looked down at Hongjoong from over the countertop. “What if it really is San?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you doubting what I saw? What _you_ saw?”

“Hongjoong, we’ve been drinking, and-”

“I’ve been piss drunk before and I’ve never seen shit like that. So what if it’s really San? We wait until the others come back, and _then_ we open the door.”

The banging stopped just as Hongjoong said his words. The eerie silence surprised them, slowing their movements. Seonghwa’s eyes wandered the windows, carefully observing for oddities, and Hongjoong crawled out from his space, peeping out from below the counter. They waited, and just as they looked at each other one last bang hit the window behind Seonghwa. The two jumped and looked out to see a black figure with bloodshot eyes looking down at them, dissolving into the darkness. The bus lights flickered and died, leaving the two on their asses, trembling. Rasps were heard again on the bus door.

“Seonghwa, Hongjoong, open up!”

“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa gasped, scrambling on his feet.

“Seonghwa, wait!” Hongjoong crawled from behind the counter, but by the time he had stood up Seonghwa had already swung open the bus door. A black arm shot through Seonghwa’s stomach, dark liquid sputtering from the wound, then choking out of Seonghwa’s open mouth. He turned to face Hongjoong, tears falling down his cheeks, blood dripping down to his chin. Hongjoong’s jaw hung in silence, trembling as he watched the arm reach up to grab Seonghwa’s head, snapping his neck as it turned him back towards the outside of the bus. The black mass dissolved, leaving Seonghwa’s body to fall on the floor. 

Hongjoong stood frozen in his place, hot tears streaming like waterfalls. The tear beads blurred his sight, unable to approach the bloodied body, a soft light falling on the darkness. 

“Seonghwa? Hongjoong?” a familiar voice echoed from afar, followed by the sound of steps running closer to the bus. 

“No!” Hongjoong screamed, falling into a crouch, his hands covering his ears, his eyes closed shut. “No, don’t come!”

A voice Hongjoong didn’t recognize accompanied Wooyoung’s. “Oh my god…”

“Seonghwa…”

“Shit,” another unfamiliar voice cursed. “We’re too late. They got one.”

“He was my band manager," Wooyoung whispered.

“Wooyoung, I’m so sorry.”

“Hongjoong?”

Hongjoong sobbed silently, still refusing to open his eyes. The bus lights seeped through his eyelids. He heard steps thudding on the floor of the bus, approaching him then slinging an arm around his back.

“Hongjoong, it’s me, Wooyoung. Don’t worry you’re safe now. It’s okay. We got you.”

Hongjoong shook as Wooyoung wiped his tears with his sleeve. He separated his lids slowly, looking at the wooden panel of the bus floor, now lit brightly by the bus lights. Wooyoung turned to let Hongjoong catch sight of him, his face twisted into a frown, both worried and scared, lips tight and turning into a small smile to offer the guitarist.

“Wooyoung. It’s really you?”

“It’s me. Promise. We know what’s going on. We’re trying to stop it from getting worse.” Wooyoung looked up their company. Yeosang stood uncomfortably, trying to ignore the mangled body by the doorway. The deity was sniffing the lukewarm wine on the table, putting the glass back down when he noticed that the attention had turned to him. He offered a polite smile. “The blond’s Yeosang, my friend. This is… he’s a deity. He’s helping us.”

“A deity?”

“That’s getting a bit old, you humans could get a bit more creative with the first-revelation reaction. Call me Jongho. Or Lord Deity. Whichever tickles your fancy.”

“He has a knack for the dramatics,” Wooyoung retorted.

“I-is Seonghwa really dead?” Hongjoong whispered to Jongho, glancing at the pool of blood forming by the doorway.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“And… we lost San too,” Wooyoung reported.

“Oh my god,” Hongjoong cried, his palms covering his mouth, his eyebrows falling into an arch. He felt the tears swell again. “What the hell is going on?”

“No time to explain now,” Jongho said, a quiet sense of urgency in his tone. “We need to get to your last friend before he loses his human company.”

“What happens then?”

“Then… if we don’t get to him first, the ghosts will.”

-

The crowd was perfect for Yunho; they all bumped into each other carelessly, bouncing and nodding to the loud music, only the strong beats ringing in his ears, colorful lights playing through the crowd, briefly providing light in the blue darkness. The hallucinogenic had given him an unending burst of serotonin, feeling his smile stretch a bit too wide, stealing kisses from the escort when they face each other, feeding into the high. He didn’t know the time, and he didn’t know where Mingi was, but he felt a false sense of security, protected by the sea of bodies that he was part of, a dangerous illusion that only scratched a small itch at the back of his head. He felt the escort’s body come closer to him, landing his hand on her waist. Their kiss was deeper this time, the shared salts melting them into each other, the thumping bass now a low hum in their ears. The woman pushed his hand down to her ass, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. She grabbed his crotch and gave it a palming, and soon his hard on was causing the pants to stretch. He blew a sigh of relief when she unzipped his pants and reached down, taking the precum with her finger and using it to lube his dick. She didn’t falter from the kiss nor the length in her hand when he placed his fingers on her core, feeling its wetness, threatening to slip under her lace underwear. She lifted a leg and rested her thighs on Yunho's side, whispering “Get inside.” He pushed two fingers into her slit, thrusting it in and out slowly, feeling the hairs on his neck stand when she moaned into their kiss, nibbling slightly on Yunho’s lower lip. Yunho felt himself build up, wondering which one of them would release first. He pushed his thumb on her clit, hoping to pleasure the other more, then inserted another finger, thrusting faster. Soon he felt a thick cream pour on his fingers, the woman hissing into his mouth as he continued thrusting slowly, letting it all out before pulling his fingers away.

“Big man with a big dick and long fingers. You’re a hell of a sex machine, you know that?”

The words gave Yunho a high, twisting and turning in his brain, his build tensing up and finally releasing down his pants. The woman tucked his dick back in place and zipped his pants up. She leaned in for one last kiss, her cold hands making Yunho shiver as it caressed his neck before letting him go. Yunho opened his eyes and the woman was gone from sight. He looked around and turned, but the people behind him had stopped moving. They all turned to look at him, faces white and ghostly, eyes watching him with a scowl. He turned the other way and saw the same expression from the crowd. Whispers echoed below the loud music. 

_Isn’t that the band member that performed at the evening show?_

_Gross, he was getting a handjob in the middle of a club?_

_He was the drummer? What a shame._

Yunho’s eyes ran through the crowd, hoping to see a familiar face, but couldn't, hyperventilating as cold sweat dripped down his face, the floor below him feeling like rubber, the colorful lights appearing in doubles in his vision. He finally caught sight of the back of Mingi’s head, tall among the crowd. He ran through the bodies to get to him, landing a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. In place of eyeballs, Mingi’s sockets were filled with maggots, his jaw hanging to show a dark void for a mouth, teeth falling apart. It made Yunho nauseous, stepping back and holding his mouth, eyes scanning for the exit sign and running towards it. The cold air ran down Yunho’s spine, bringing him back to soberarity. He looked around and saw grass, tripping on his own feet as he ran there to let a stream of brown liquid pour out of his mouth. It was the other end of the club’s parking lot, the back of the building that met a field unrecognizable in the darkness. He took a few breaths before wiping his mouth, his entire body aching. He thought about what he had just seen and sat his ass on the tar. He looked up at the night sky and wondered where he was and what was real and what was not. His daydream was interrupted by the familiar face of plump lips and a high pointed nose, a small grin on his face as he looked down at Yunho.

“Ginger ale?”

Yunho took the can from the other gratefully, and Mingi sat next to him. 

“It’s not laced or anything, right?”

“Nah just some good ol’ ale. Bought it from the bar.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” Yunho commented before taking a sip, thankful just to have anything to down the taste of vomit from his throat. He felt his brain wire out, wondering if he could talk to Mingi about anything. He had an odd sense of trust in the man, despite the fact that he had brought him to a weird club and forced him to pay for their drugs. There’s some naivety in his smile, one that convinced Yunho that he’s just trying to have a good time before he has to leave the college life for good. “Hey Mingi, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Mingi grinned, taking the ale from Yunho’s hand and sipping some himself.

“Has anything… supernatural ever happened to you in this town?”

The boy with light brown hair falling just above his eyes thought about it, his usually sharp eyes widened into a child-like wonder. He pinched his mouth on one side and shook his head. “Well I thought I saw something back in my first final year, while I was studying for the first cal three exam I failed. It creeped me out so much I had to take a drink, and then two then three, and after I failed the exam I figured, hey, college is too fun to only experience it in four years, why not take my time with it and enjoy my youth, yknow? Who cares about engineering a better world, we’re all gonna die in the hands of greedy politicians anyway.”

Yunho nodded, taking back the can of ale and gulping it down before he felt gas raising up his oesophagus, letting out a loud burp.

“Nice,” Mingi chuckled. Mingi took several gulps himself, then let out his own burp. “You think that was louder?”

Yunho smiled and nodded, appreciating Mingi's endearing juvenility. He reminded Yunho of his bandmates, and made him think that maybe, possibly, they could all just hang out together one day and have fun like the adult children that they all are.

A chilly wind passed and Yunho felt uncomfortable in the silence. He didn’t realize it before but the music from the club had stopped, and he hadn’t seen anyone pass, just Mingi. Mingi turned towards the road.

“Did you hear something?” Mingi asked.

Yunho listened but didn’t hear a single sound. Without warning, a gust of wind blew through, leaves slapping their faces before they fell behind them, scratching them softly. Yunho stood up and Mingi followed. Another gust came by, pushing Mingi to the wall of the club, pinning him against it.

_“Stay, or you perish.”_

The voice hissed, but it was loud and clear in their ears. The invisible force let go of Mingi, who now stood frozen from shock. Yunho approached him, but before he could reach the other a darkness enveloped him. Whispers echoed through his eardrums, each one insulting him, jeering in disgust, threatening death and humiliation. He felt himself drown in the voices, the whispers slowly turning into a familiar voice, his own thoughts, attacking him like needles piercing through his skin, clouding his mind from any sanity. He fell on his knees, the darkness looming above his head, choking at his neck as he turned breathless, grasping at nothing for air. Tears had pooled at his lids when the darkness scattered into smooth dust, revealing the parking lot of the club.

“Yunho!” Wooyoung screamed. 

“No, don’t leave the bus!” Jongho shouted, but Wooyoung had already left, his legs fast to approach the taller, helping him on his feet. He dragged him by the arm, swinging it around his shoulder and half running back towards the bus. Yunho felt a hand land on his shoulder just as they arrived at the doorway of the tour bus that was parked by the empty street. He looked down to see the black veins of the hands bulge as it grasped harder on Yunho’s shoulder. Jongho’s tanto point landed on the figure, causing it to scatter into black particles. He pulled his arm away and Wooyoung helped Yunho get on, pulling the taller onto Seonghwa’s dried blood. 

“Wait!” Mingi shouted, running towards the bus. “Don’t leave me!”

A sharp wind pierced through Mingi’s torso mid-run, boring a narrow hole through his chest cavity. He fell on his face as crimson liquid seeped through his shirt, looking up to see the people on the bus by the doorway; they looked back at him with a mixture of fear and pity, and they were his only hope for escape. He started crawling towards it, fingers scratched by the raw tar underneath him, and Jongho stepped out to give a helping hand. Before he could reach Mingi, another wind pierced through Mingi’s throat, a sputter of blood spraying out as his head shook back in shock, then falling limp as the blood pool below him. Yunho cupped his mouth in horror, feeling himself shake and tremble. Jongho closed the metal door behind him quickly, sighing deeply. There was a quiet moment lingering between them, just the sounds breathing and the sharing of petrified glances. The deity kept his knife in its sheath soundlessly. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

Wooyoung had driven a car before, without a license, but it was pretty intuitive, he thought. Now he was in charge of driving the bus, at night, after witnessing horrors that still ran chills down his spine. He thought about how they had lost San, a valued member of the team, a good friend of his, and Seonghwa, the only thing that kept their band together, the only person who knew how to handle them. Beside him Yunho slumped into the big cushioned seat, still shaken from the events that had just happened. He was supposed to navigate Wooyoung to Yeosang’s apartment building, but he wasn’t focused, and Wooyoung had taken it to himself to keep track of the navigation on Yunho’s phone, depending on the lady’s voice to tell him where to go. They were slow, perhaps too slow, but it was better to be safe than to lose control of this huge machine of a vehicle. Wooyoung suddenly missed Seonghwa again. He hoped that Seonghwa knew at the end of his life that the band really did appreciate him. 

Behind them was the kitchenette, where Jongho and Yeosang sat on stools, drinks in hand.

“You rock band people really only drink beer, huh?” Jongho retorted, grimacing at the taste.

“If you look closely you might find one of Seonghwa’s wine stash, or we must have plain water somewhere in the back, I don’t know, you’re on your own.” It was all Wooyoung could offer.

“Well a bit more alcohol won’t hurt,” Yeosang said almost to himself before downing his can. He threw it in the dustbin behind the counter and stood up. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“We’ll wake you up when we arrive,” Wooyoung called. Yeosang waved a hand, knowing well Wooyoung wasn’t looking anyway. He walked into the sleeping quarters, glancing at the blue haired boy lying asleep on the mattress in one of the lower cubicles. His eyes then catch onto the dead body that laid bloody on the very end of the bus, just by the restroom entrance. Yeosang grimaced. Hongjoong had insisted that they kept the body for burial; he wanted to give Seonghwa a peaceful rest, one they couldn’t provide San. Yeosang wondered if it made any sense to bring back such a twisted body; there was a hole the size of a fist that you could look through on his stomach, his neck a growing black bruise from the snap. Hongjoong had closed Seonghwa's eyes and cleaned his face, but there were still smudges of dried blood around his chin, his jaw just slightly ajar. Yeosang tried to not think about it as he lied on the mattress opposite of Hongjoong’s cubicle. He pulled the curtain to dim out the lights from his sight, closing his eyes as his back rested on the thin matter below him. He woke to the feeling of a sharp pain, eyes widened as a cold metal pierced through his shoulder. His hands were around Hongjoong’s neck, his woken face turning blue from the chokehold. He felt cold sweat running down his face and his neck before turning to see Jongho over his shoulder, a sad grimace on his face. He held the knife tight and pulled it out of his shoulder blade.

“I thought you’d last it out a bit longer. I warned you to stay away.”

Yeosang let go of Hongjoong, who gasped for air, tears welling. The blond’s breath shortened from the pain, grabbing at his shoulder to stop the bleeding. A voice that was not his own escaped Yeosang's lips.

_“I’m not going to hurt these two. But I will stop anything that’s taking them away from this town.”_

“Well that’s not really your decision to make, now is it?” Jongho wiped the bloodied blade with the pants fabric on the side of his thigh before slipping it back into its sheath. Yeosang choked on air as he fell on his side, his eyes blurring as blood continued to pour into his palms.

“Jongho… help… it hurts…”

“Who’s talking?”

“Ye-Yeosang…”

Jongho kept quiet for a moment, and Yeosang looked at him with a twisted expression, eyebrows furrowed and tears streaming downwards to one side of his face. In a small moment, his pupils shrunk, jumping across the white of his eyes, then it returned to normal, dilated in his doe-like lids.

“Stop the bus,” Jongho instructed, carrying the blond over his shoulder.

“Why? Is something wrong?” Wooyoung checked the side mirror. They hadn’t seen another vehicle pass in a while now, so he pushed the breaks in the middle of the road, the handbrake screeching as he pulled it up. Wooyoung looked back and jumped out of his seat when he saw Jongho carrying Yeosang, Hongjoong scurrying behind them, neck swollen red. “What are you doing?”

“He’s possessed. That ghost is relentless. He tried to kill bluebird here. We have to get rid of him now and you guys can get on your way.”

“You stabbed Yeosang?” Wooyoung shouted as he saw his friend’s injury. 

“It’s not just him in here anymore. Like I said, possessed.” Jongho opened the bus’s door and threw the limp body out, a thud sounding as he landed on the grass by the tar, his back knocking on a wooden fence. Yeosang looked up tearfully at Wooyoung, grabbing on the wound on his shoulder. Wooyoung stepped closer to the exit door, but Jongho caught his arm, turning him back. Wooyoung looked at Jongho with arched eyebrows, the despair in his eyes too deep, having lost so many people that he had loved in one day. Jongho felt pity, sour in the pits of his stomach, and let go of the boy. Wooyoung stepped out and went down to hug his friend, feeling tears stream down his cheeks as he shivered. Yeosang wrapped his free arm around Wooyoung’s waist.

"I'm so sorry we have to part like this," Wooyoung whispered.

“Stay here.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“Stay with me, Wooyoung. We’ll have fun in this town, like we always had. Teach me all the things you’ve done all those years I’ve lost. Don’t you want all that again? We can do it together. From one ghost town to another, right?”

He felt his breaths shorten, sharp and painful on his chest. All the memories that they made together, they can relive it all, if he just stayed beside Yeosang now…

A breeze blew by Wooyoung’s ears, making a squelching sound as it stopped. Yeosang’s arm loosened from Wooyoung’s waist, and Wooyoung looked up, watching as the knife between Yeosang’s eyes drew blood that dripped down his face, down to his hanging mouth. The body fell limp in Wooyoung’s arms.

“YEOSANG!”

The shrill scream couldn’t echo in the barren fields, but it pierced through Yunho and Hongjoong’s ears. The blade flew itself back into Jongho’s hand.

“YOU KILLED YEOSANG!” Wooyoung cried at the deity. “WHY DID YOU KILL HIM? I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT US!”

“I’m supposed to protect _you_. And you were falling for the ghost’s whispers. I couldn’t let it go on.”

“WHY CAN'T YOU SAVE HIM TOO? WHY DID YOU LET HIM GO?”

Jongho fell silent.

“IF YOU'RE A DEITY WHY COULDN'T YOU SAVE US ALL? YOU'RE A FAKE! YOU'RE FAKE! YOU LIED TO US!”

Yunho walked out of the bus, deciding he should intervene, and pulled Wooyoung’s arms away from the body quietly. 

“NO! We have to bury him, Yunho! We have to bring him back like Seonghwa!” Wooyoung’s face was swollen and red, mucus running down to his mouth. His voice had turned raspy from shouting, but it didn't stop his protest. Yunho bit his lower lip grimly, trying to calm Wooyoung by bringing both of his forearms together.

“Bringing him means bringing the ghost within him,” Jongho informed.

“I thought you killed it with the knife!”

“It’s not that easy. We have to leave him here.”

“Wooyoung, come on,” Yunho whispered, his own aching arms helping the sobbing boy up. He stepped into the bus with Wooyoung, who looked back sorrowfully at his friend's lifeless body, gritting his teeth together before the door behind him closed. As locks clicked shut, Jongho’s figure disappeared from sight. The three bandmates looked out the bus window to see a red cat closing Yeosang's eyes with its paw, then licking the blood on Yeosang’s face. Its golden eyes looked up at three, and they stepped back. The cat went back to licking the face clean, and Hongjoong offered to continue driving the bus. Yunho let Wooyoung sit himself on a stool near the side of the bus, head leaning on the metal body, feeling his face numb as the tears continued streaming down his cheeks. The tall drummer sat with Hongjoong, helping him figure out the mechanics, and the bus started moving, leaving the body on the side of the road with the deity.

 _“I’ll get the next one,”_ a shrill voice escaped Yeosang’s unmoving body.

“No you won’t,” Jongho said. “Not on my watch.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! I really appreciate kudos/comments and hope you have a wonderful day ahead.


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